


first christmas i gave you my heart

by ninzied



Category: Daredevil (TV), The Punisher (TV 2017)
Genre: F/M, and some good old-fashioned mistletoe shenanigans, complete with a wily matchmaking pupper, holiday fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-03
Updated: 2020-03-19
Packaged: 2021-02-27 06:08:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,040
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22092325
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ninzied/pseuds/ninzied
Summary: As far as holiday parties went – not that Frank had much recent experience to go by – this one wasn’t turning out to be so bad.There was the dog, for one thing.But then there was the goddamn mistletoe.
Relationships: Frank Castle/Karen Page
Comments: 34
Kudos: 151
Collections: kastlechristmas2k19





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> happy holidays to my dear **wasleichtes**!

As far as holiday parties went – not that Frank had much recent experience to go by – this one wasn't turning out to be so bad.

There was the dog, for one thing.

The newly engaged Nelson and his lawyer blonde bride-to-be had just adopted this runt of a thing, part pit, part maybe a little bit terrier, and named it Theodore. Theodore had just gotten neutered, and was still in a cone to keep him from getting too close to his stitches. This dog had already been used against him once – when Karen practically ambushed him at his place earlier that evening, stating she had this "work thing" if he happened to be free, "And before you say no, let me sweeten the deal."

He let her think it was for the dog, anyway.

The fact of the matter was that Frank would've had a hard time saying no to anything, with her standing there on his stoop, dressed in some dark, sparkled thing that only brought out the blue in her eyes as she tried to entice him by talking about dogs.

For all the spontaneity of her request, Nelson hadn't seemed all that surprised to find Frank escorting Karen to his place less than an hour later, saying only, "Glad you could make it!" like he had extended the invite himself.

Murdock was sipping wine from across the plushly carpeted living room, and they nodded a silent acknowledgment at each other before Frank turned back to Karen, eyebrow raised in question.

"Work thing, huh?"

She pulled a sly grin on him. "Technically, Frank, I do work with them."

There were other people that required her saying hello to, and Frank lost track of where they'd all made their acquaintances from – the Bulletin, the butcher shop, some other law firm or another. There was one surly brunette that Frank recognized from her equally surly news appearances on TV, but she appeared even less interested in small talk than he did, beelining back to the bar as soon as she humanly could.

If anyone found it odd that a guy named Pete who worked in construction could have found himself in the company of one Karen Page, they made no mention of it. He kept his beard neatly trimmed these days, and had even thrown on a suit for the occasion, so if they mistook him for management of some kind then so be it.

It took him a while to spot the mistletoe.

They were hung up in nondescript places around Nelson's sprawling Fifth Avenue loft, but after Frank noticed one of them, the rest were impossible not to see. They hadn't drawn much attention from the other guests yet, though Frank knew it was only a matter of time. If Karen saw them as she navigated him around the party, she didn't say anything either, but he kept a sharp eye on them nonetheless, not wanting to get caught off guard.

Still, all things considered, he wasn't having a bad time at all.

People were polite but not prying. The fancy finger foods would not have been his first choice, but he decided he didn't mind so much after Karen caught his eye over a plate of cubed cheese and mouthed at him, _Pizza later?_ The hostess – Marci – was appalled at the sight of any empty champagne glasses. Frank couldn't get a good read on how much or how little she knew of his past, but she'd seemed sincerely pleased when Karen introduced them.

He kept his distance from Murdock, who was just as carefully returning the favor. Not that there was much of a point; whether it was a wall or a whole goddamn building between them, Frank suspected that Murdock had always known what his feelings were for Karen. Probably even before Frank had acknowledged it himself.

At some point Karen put another drink in his hand, and he felt the whiskey slide warm down his throat, her arm slipping through his as if he'd always belonged there with her. Frank swallowed again, and wondered for the thirty-seventh time when this had become something they did, showing up on each other's doorsteps like it could be more than just life-or-death between them. Like this could be everything. Like this could be it.

But then, as Karen took him to one of the doors down the hall – he heard an eager woof behind it, an exuberant scuffling of claws – she turned to him, cheeks aglow with a smile, and fuck, thought Frank.

Life-or-death was sounding pretty accurate after all.

"Frank," she said, "meet Theo."

…

He could've stayed in that guest room all night.

Karen had gone back out for more drinks while Frank and the puppy got acquainted. Theodore was licking as much of Frank's face as he could when she returned, slipping out of her heels before she closed the door again.

She was sipping on some boozy eggnog now, back against the foot of the bed, holding her glass comically high out of reach whenever Theodore came sniffing around to investigate.

"Been thinking it might be time," Frank said eventually. "To get a dog."

Karen smiled down at her lap, where Theodore had decided to stow some of his chew toys. "I wondered if that was the case."

Frank thought of the vest with its faded-out skull, gathering dust in the very back corner of his closet. He thought of all that space left behind when he took the vest off for good, how impossible it felt just to consider what it might be like to not feel empty anymore.

But when he looked at Karen all he wanted was—

He cleared his throat, and took a sip of his beer. "So, d'you bring me along thinking I wasn't above sneaking the little guy home? Because I'm here to tell you I'm not, Karen."

"What if I told you I was counting on it?" There was a teasing glint to her eye as she said it, that made him shake his head and look away before he could smile.

Theodore was resting his coned little chin on her thigh, tail wagging to show how wildly content he was at the moment. When Frank reached over to rub the puppy's back, his hand nearly encircled his entire body.

Karen scratched at a spot beneath the cone that Theodore had been trying vainly to reach, and her hand brushed against Frank's, soft and warm, before settling back into the carpet between them.

Theodore made a whining sound, and scooted his body closer to hers, curling more firmly over her leg. His claws dug a little into the fabric of her dress, but she seemed unbothered by it, letting him wrestle one of the chew toys with soft sounds of playfully egging him on.

They sat there a while longer without speaking, and it was easy, just – being here with her like this. The party went on in some other world, muffled chatter here and there, music that Frank would've paid no attention to if not for Karen quietly humming along. The dog had abandoned his toys in favor of clambering fully onto her lap, aiming kisses at her chin as she smiled.

This wasn't Frank's first Christmas without his family, and it wouldn't be the last, but for the first time he was learning what else that could mean – that the grief, the loss of each Christmas to come, didn't have to live on its own anymore. That maybe it could be the first time for other things, too.

Theodore bounded back over to Frank with a dramatic, clumsy leap, knocking Karen slightly off balance as he went. She put a hand on Frank's knee to steady herself, and for a moment Frank felt his brain short-circuit, derailed between a squirming armful of puppy and the sudden whiff of Karen's perfume as she brushed back her hair and looked up at him, her face only inches away.

"Hey," he said.

"Hey," she said back, just as intently.

"Listen, Karen. I—"

There was a brief but loud boom of a laugh from the other side of the wall, and it was enough to pull him out of it as she glanced toward the sound and then back over, her gaze soft but expectant on his. "Yeah, Frank?"

"Did you want to go back out there?" said Frank, jerking a thumb at the door and wincing inwardly when Theodore gave him a truly pitiful look.

"No," Karen told him, with a shake of her head. "This is what I wanted." But she leaned back a little, giving the dog more space to jump up between them. "Do you think you would have room for one? A dog, I mean."

The apartment he'd moved into after – everything – was a moderate size but sparsely furnished, apart from a growing shelf of books and the cabinets he kept well-stocked with coffee. The coffee was the first thing he reached for whenever Karen stopped by, and each time she curled up by the window with a mug in her hand, Frank forgot how empty a place it really was.

"Yeah," he said roughly, "Yeah, there's room," and chugged down the rest of his beer.

"I could go with you sometime," offered Karen, and even if he had the balls to look her in the eye right then, Theodore was doing his goddamn best to chew through the edge of his cone, distracting them both for a while. "There's a place near work. I pass it on the way to and from the subway. Big windows. One day, Foggy just couldn't take it anymore."

Frank had coaxed the mangled bit of plastic out of Theodore's jaws, and wound up with a trail of slobber down the front of his suit for his efforts. "You been scoping one out for me?"

"Maybe," said Karen, already armed with a cocktail napkin, and she reached over to pat him dry. "Unless you have any strong objections."

"No, ma'am."

She gathered the dog back into her lap, handing Frank the last of the napkins. He gave his suit a perfunctory dab, his mind completely elsewhere – in an apartment that could be not so long from now, a dog going to town chewing the carpet to shreds, and two cups of coffee forgotten on the table.

He gave Karen a sidelong look. He knew how patient she'd been with him, after. How badly she'd _wanted_ that after, for him. How much it had meant to her when he finally made his way back – even though he'd never said the words, and she'd only shown it in small, quiet ways of her own. Sneaking books onto his shelf, or showing up to his sites with doughnuts and coffee on days he ended up working late.

Sometimes he feared that what he'd mistaken for patience was really no special kindness on her part – that she cared for him was obvious, but maybe he'd let himself believe there was more to it than Karen just being the good friend she was. That her idea of after didn't go beyond making sure he was going to be okay.

But then she would go and do a thing like this, cuddling the damn dog to her chest, offering her chin up for some kisses, and she had to know, she had to know that Frank was this close to just taking the both of them home right now.

He cleared his throat, shifting to face her as she beamed another one of those smiles at the dog nestled in her arms.

And then she turned that smile on him with a soft, "Yeah, Frank?" just as Theodore paused his tail-wagging and rounded big eyes on him too, like he could somehow sense the weight of things Frank needed to say.

"What do you think?" asked Karen, glancing down to address the dog. "Maybe Frank's finally decided what kind of pizza he wants."

Frank blew out a breath, about to retort when there was a sharp rapping sound. The scowling brunette from earlier was poking her head in before they could answer, Theodore already making a beeline toward the small opening her boot had wedged in the door.

"Hey, Jess," Karen greeted, unfazed by her abrupt entrance.

"Sorry to interrupt. The missus said we could take him out for a while," drawled Jessica Jones, staring down at the dog with an utterly impassive look on her face.

"Marci?" said Karen.

"Nope." She gave a small jerk of her chin, and finally one corner of her mouth turned up in the hint of a smirk. "Other one. Foggy."

Frank felt his jaw tick with the effort not to laugh outright. He liked her, he decided. And he could tell Karen did too, for all of Jones' evident distaste toward humanity at large. Maybe Karen had a soft spot for all of the hopeless people like him.

Jones scooped up the pup one-handed, grimacing when he attempted to scrabble onto her shoulders. "Yeah, yeah, you think you're cute," she muttered, but she hoisted him closer as they disappeared down the hall.

"Come on," said Karen after a moment, taking Frank's hand and pulling them both onto their feet. "Unless you can think of another reason to stay." Her tone was playful, light to match the brief look that she gave him as she said it, and Frank was pretty sure she was flirting with him, and that he had no idea what he wanted to do about any of this.

That, right there.

That was another lie he'd been telling himself.

But he let her lead him back out to the party, and felt her squeeze his hand for a moment before stepping away. His fingers flexed after hers in the barest of twitches, like the loss of them had left him untethered. She touched him like it was a part of her now, freely and without a second thought; and it was all he could do, not to do the same. Somewhere along the way, Frank had realized it was useless to resist this – resist her – altogether, but keeping some kind of distance between them felt like the last semblance of control he had.

Murdock was finally making his way over to them, and Frank turned to Karen, asking in a low tone: "Drink?"

She blinked at him once, and he knew she understood what he was really asking. She and Murdock were friends, and deserved to have their own moment together without baggage or any of his stupid bullshit. Frank got that; it wasn't like he was some goddamn Grinch.

He nodded to her.

"Okay," she told him finally, and touched a hand to his forearm. "Surprise me."

His mouth slid sideways in a grin. "Okay." Then, as a courtesy toward Murdock, Frank added gruffly, "You need anything?"

"I'm good where I am, thanks," said Murdock, folding his hands over his cane, and of course he was, thought Frank with some exasperation as he left them there to head for the bar.

Jones had set Theodore loose in the kitchen, and he yipped his excitement to see Frank again so soon, scampering up to him and providing a welcome distraction from everything else for a while.

Nelson brought out a bag of some treats, and the guests were taking turns winning over Theodore's affections. Still he kept returning to paw fondly at Frank's feet, nosing at his empty hands before sniffing at Jones like she might've hidden away a few treats of her own. The two of them had found themselves a little ways off from the crowd, like the odd men out that they were. They hardly spoke a word to each other, which suited Frank just fine.

He was shifting out of a crouch, ignoring the groan his knees made in protest, when he felt a familiar prickling sensation rise up the back of his neck. Jones was watching him with more than her usual detached air of boredom, and then her gaze flicked over to Karen, as if daring Frank to finally look over there too.

He did, and the first thing he saw was that goddamn mistletoe.

It had been laid like some kind of trap, a single sprig of it delicately hung over the door leading back out into the foyer. It was as though someone – Nelson, for fuck's sake, who else – had personally seen to the fact that no one was going to leave this place unscathed.

And now Karen and Murdock were standing right under it.


	2. Chapter 2

They were talking, oblivious beneath the mistletoe, and Karen was smiling at something Murdock had just said – of course she was. They were friends. Even if they weren't, it would've been none of Frank's goddamn business.

He forced himself to look away.

Jones raised a single, dark eyebrow at him, and he gave her a hard look in return, saying nothing. Theodore plopped himself at their feet, gazing expectantly up at them both.

"So you just gonna keep standing there like an asshole?" Jones finally asked.

Frank crossed his arms. "Something wrong with the way I'm standing?"

She shrugged at him. "Suit yourself – Pete." She drawled out the name, just long enough that there could be no mistaking the fact that she knew who he really was.

He braced himself, waiting. From what he'd heard of her, and what he'd gathered through the news, Jessica Jones was abrasive but all soft on the inside – maybe there was a little bit of bite with the bark, but when push came to shove she and Red were not so different. They both stopped just short of what had to be done.

Not that he was here to get into it about right and wrong – not that he put himself in the middle of that anymore – but if she made this into some kind of problem for her, if she was going to dig up some ghost and rub all that shit into this Christmas with Karen—

"Just didn't figure you to be the jealous type, that's all," said Jones.

"I – what?" Frank could only stare at her a moment, as Theodore knocked the edge of the cone into his leg.

She looked down at the dog, and said very clearly, "You're right, I'm pretty sure he heard me just fine."

"It's not like that," said Frank.

"Oh, it's not like that," Jones echoed at Theodore. He gave a small yip, to which she rolled her eyes and said, "No kidding."

Frank scowled down at the dog and said, "All right, maybe it is – something – like that." Theodore was looking up at him with a coneful of big, droopy eyes. "But I'm not…it's…" Jesus. Had he really just been about to say _It's complicated_?

Jones opened her mouth.

"Don't," he warned her.

Jones glanced back at the dog and smirked. "Think it goes without saying at this point."

"For Christ's sake," he muttered, and reached for another beer.

She was wrong, and she wasn't. It wasn't as simple as jealousy, Frank thought, but something that went even deeper – down to the core of what kept holding him back, as far as Karen was concerned.

If he turned and left now, and never looked back, they could both survive it. She'd always been strong, and he – well, he'd be one miserable fuck, but at least there'd be some part of him left. He hadn't crossed that last line with her, and maybe that would be the thing to save him – because if he kissed her, if he let her love him back, he would give her everything that he had. And he knew he wouldn't regret a single moment of it.

In some twisted way, regret was a harder thing to let go than he would have liked to admit. That ache in his very bones from not being with her was an easier pain to live with, the lesser fear than being the one who got to stand there and kiss her.

He realized he'd been gripping his beer so hard that he was starting to lose some feeling in his fingers, his index twitching as always for the trigger that was no longer there.

"Here," said Jones. There might have been a flicker of sympathy in her eyes as she took the bottle from him. "Let me give you a hand with that."

She flicked the top off with her thumb like it was nothing before giving it back to him. The metal hit the floor with a small, bouncing ping, and she closed the heel of her boot over it before Theodore could get too close.

"That's useful," said Frank.

"From time to time." She bent to retrieve the bottle cap, nosing Theodore's cone away when he gave her hand an inquiring sniff.

Frank took a swig, and used the motion to examine his periphery. Karen and Murdock were still standing there, smiling and chatting – doing all the normal things that two people were supposed to do, things that he should've been doing with Karen if it weren't for—

Shit.

If it weren't for what, Frank?

He stood there with his beer, his insides all clenched up at the deep and sudden silence that seemed to take over in answer. He didn't have an answer. Every answer he'd given had always been garbage – he knew it. Christ, he'd known Jessica Jones for twelve fucking seconds and she already knew it, too.

Karen had teased him before, whenever his face went hard and blank like it probably was at the moment, that it was a safe bet to assume he was contemplating murder. But he was at a different kind of war now, and the only thing he was putting at risk by holding back from the fight was himself.

Without a word, Jones bent off the cap from another beer and handed the bottle to him.

He gazed at her for a moment. She was looking aloof, like she couldn't care less what he did or did not do with it, and to let her off the hook he chose to say nothing either.

Theodore thumped his tail, and Frank muttered a "Yeah, yeah." _Let's go get our girl_.

A thought occurred to him, and he turned back to Jones. There was a crook in his mouth that might've been a smile, and she side-eyed it with some amount of wariness. "You got a, uh – vested other kind of interest in how this plays out?"

Her gaze narrowed. Her tone was flat as she said, "What?"

He raised an eyebrow, waiting. Her eyes shifted an almost infinitesimal degree past his shoulder, over to where Murdock was standing, and he saw the moment she caught on as her face twisted into an expression of disgust.

"Gross," she said emphatically. "Now go break a leg before I have to break it for you."

Frank told her, unfazed, "Think you might be missing the point of saying that to someone."

She wasn't smiling, but she wasn't scowling at him either. "Whatever, Pete."

He nodded at her, and said, "Name's not Pete," before nodding his head down to Theodore to follow him.

It was as though Murdock knew Frank was coming before even he did. He could feel Red's attention on him, unwavering even as Frank took his time, under the pretense of keeping Theodore from straying too far off in the crowd.

When he glanced up again, they looked like they were coming to some natural end in their conversation, both stepping back just a little as they nodded and laughed. Karen touched Murdock on the shoulder with one last smile, and then she was looking at Frank, eyes bright as he and the dog approached them.

It was a different smile that she was giving him – small, but almost unbearably soft, like her entire face glowed with the same kind of meaning – and it was several long seconds before Frank snapped out of it enough to notice that Murdock was standing right next to him.

"I was starting to think that you weren't coming around," said Murdock, so low that Frank wasn't sure Karen had heard him.

"Well – I'm here now."

Murdock inclined his head.

"Hey, Theo."

Theodore wagged his tail, cone swinging up toward Frank.

"Why don't you go with your Uncle Red for a while?" Frank's eyes didn't leave Karen's as he said it, and she tilted her head at him, looking amused. "There's treats in the kitchen," he told Murdock, though he was sure he must have heard all that too.

"Good boy," he heard Murdock say to Theodore, and Frank almost snorted a laugh – it was strange to hear him do something so…human, addressing a dog – but he supposed there was a lot more to Murdock than he'd been willing to know. And learning them was just going to have to be a part of all this – of being with Karen, however he could.

"Hey," he said, coming to stop about a foot away from her.

"Hey." She hadn't stopped smiling at him.

Frank looked down, at a loss for how to say – anything. Everything. There was so much that just being around her made him feel, and he thought that if he could just kiss her, even if he said nothing at all, she would know.

"Is one of those supposed to be for me?" Karen asked finally, and he stared at the beer, the glass starting to sweat in his hands.

"Uh. Yeah." He cleared his throat, and moved to give her one, but as she was reaching for it he said, abruptly, "Actually, there's…something I wanted to talk to you about."

"Okay," she said. "Shoot."

"I was—" He swallowed, and felt his heartbeat ram up against his throat. "Look, Karen, I was kind of hoping we could go someplace – private."

She bit her lip, eyeing him wth a teasing expression. "You trying to get out of kissing me, Frank?"

"I – what?" He stared at her, momentarily derailed. And that's when he looked up and saw the mistletoe, hanging neutrally just over his head. "Goddamn it," he swore under his breath, and then an ice-cold dread gripped at his chest and squeezed hard when he realized what he'd just said.

"It's okay," Karen told him, but the smile was gone from her voice, and this was the furthest from okay he could think of. "Frank, it was a joke."

"That's not why I'm here," he tried telling her, but that hadn't come out the way he'd wanted it to, either.

"Right," she said, "no, of course. I—" She turned away from him for a moment, appeared to gather herself, and then said, "Sorry. You said you wanted to talk to me about something?"

"Wait. Karen, don't do that. Just—" He eased the bottle out of her grasp, and set both of them down on a table by to the wall. "Karen, look at me. Please." He took her hands, tugging her towards him as he backed slowly through the doorway, and she slipped one away to brace into his chest.

"Frank," she said, placatingly. "You don't have to—"

"Just – c'mere for a second."

They were in the foyer now, tucked behind one of the walls out of sight. Away from the crowd, and away from the goddamn mistletoe. Karen started to pull back, but then she seemed to realize he had no intention of letting her go. Her palm flattened over his chest. She could feel everything there, he thought. Every beat. Every breath. When she looked up at him, he knew that she understood.

"Frank," she said again, in a very different tone.

"It wasn't…" He put his hand to her cheek, palm cradling her jawline, and she leaned into it, lashes looking heavy as she met his eye. "It wasn't gonna be because of that. You understand."

She touched the back of his hand in answer. Their fingers slowly intertwined. He shifted over her, moving to angle the nape of her neck closer, and then he lowered his mouth to hers.

He kissed her slow, with all the restraint he could muster – they were surrounded here, it wasn't the place to be pouring his heart out – but then Karen let out the smallest of sighs, and it was game over from there, for him.

They wound up with Karen pressed into the coatrack, Frank's leg between hers as they made out in earnest. It was probably embarrassing, the way they couldn't keep their hands off each other. But all the fear had gone out of him, and in its place, nothing but the deep, quiet contentment of coming home. Of finally being. Right where he belonged.

Frank pulled away for a moment, resting his forehead to hers. They were both breathing fast, small, shallow movements as they shifted together. Her cheeks were flushed, lips full and pink and parted just slightly. He kissed her again, sweeping his tongue over hers one last time before parting.

He could've told her right then. _I love you. I love you_. But for the first time, there _was_ time, and he actually believed it.

Her hair had fallen across her face, and he brushed it aside with his thumb, grazing the pad of it over her cheek.

"So, pizza?" she asked him, still somewhat breathless.

"Actually, I, uh." He looked at her, a little sheepish. "I was thinking maybe we could get a dog."

Karen pressed her lips together, trying to hold back a laugh – and she could've been laughing _at_ him, he wouldn't blame her, but then she kissed his cheek and said, "Tomorrow sounds good." Her breath tickled his jawline. "Now let's get out of here."

Frank reached for their coats.

They were doing this all out of order. They always had. The first thing he'd done when they met was fall for her, even though it'd taken him this long to figure himself out; and when he leaned in to kiss her again, almost shyly this time, her smile felt like something that had always been there, waiting, and it had never felt more right.


End file.
